2024-01-04

poetry/m/montana4.txt

@@ -0,0 +1,60 @@
+Montana IV
+2021-06-26
+
+***
+
+Standing at the riverside,
+muddy waters a mirror
+as thousands of faces pass by,
+their time
+here long since ended,
+their ghosts hung up to dry
+like my brothers' swimsuits.
+
+I am an idiot to think my youth
+would last forever.
+Squalor
+without end, boundless, free in the final
+whispering of the mundane life.
+And yet I want to be free
+of this sheath
+of flesh.
+I want love.
+I want death.
+I need a long rest
+from the prison of this persona
+I've built, brick by brick, around my body.
+
+There's a powerful persistent part of me
+that wants to renounce humanity
+and disappear forever into the trees.
+It's not the end for which I seek,
+but there is a haunting dream
+that reoccurs at least
+once a week
+where my higher mind is sealed
+away and I wander for years
+in that draconic body in some witch's menagerie.
+
+No more wants,
+just needs
+and simple pleasures
+like romping in that river,
+bathing in the sunshine,
+stomach content with whatever I can find.
+No more work,
+no more school,
+no more debt
+or responsibility.
+Owned only by myself,
+survivalist's hell
+my own little heaven.
+
+And, of course, mind robbed of memories
+of all the things I shirked,
+I suppose that witch's hand gently scritching
+the nape of my neck wouldn't hurt.
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander